


Me and You, You and Me

by Cheshire_Cat



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-22
Updated: 2013-05-22
Packaged: 2017-12-12 00:42:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/805154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheshire_Cat/pseuds/Cheshire_Cat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Niall works at the pizza place in town and Zayn is completely smitten. Meanwhile, Harry's a dope, Louis' an arse, and Liam just wants everyone to get along.</p>
<p>
  <em>Zayn tries not to stare, but he really can’t help it.  Niall’s traded his white polo shirt for a green tank top, and his “Paul’s Pizza” cap has been replaced by a snapback with the logo of an American baseball team.  Zayn’s eyes follow the dips and hollows of his shoulders, the muscles of his arms and back; he wants so badly to put an arm around Niall’s waist and pull him in close, to kiss his neck and shoulders and then his lips.  Niall turns back, catches Zayn looking at him, and flashes him a grin.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Me and You, You and Me

The doorbell rings.

“Is that the pizza?” Louis asks, not looking up from his game of FIFA.  “Zayn, go check!”

“Why do _I_ have to go?” Zayn complains, reluctant to move from his very comfortable position sprawled out on the couch.

“Because,” Liam replies, his eyes fixed on the game as well, “ _I’m_ too busy kicking Louis’ arse.” As though to prove his point, he scores, and his little animated players run about the screen in celebration. Louis curses.

“Not for long, you’re not,” he says, hunching over his controller. “Zayn, darling, will you please go answer the door while I show our dearest Liam a thing or two about video game football?”

Zayn sighs and hauls himself up. “Fine.”

“You’re wonderful, Zayn,” Louis says in thanks. “There’s money on the table by the door.”

Zayn waves his script at him in acknowledgment.  After a week of auditions, he’s been cast in their local community theatre’s production of _Twelfth Night_.  He’s been going through and highlighting his lines while Liam and Louis play video games and curse at each other.

The money is where Louis said it would be, and he opens the door to find, sure enough, the pizza boy.

“’Lo,” the boy says, taking several boxes out of the insulated carrying bag over his shoulder. “You order three pizzas?” He’s got an Irish accent, of all things, and Zayn looks at him, intrigued.

“Yeah, how much?”

The boy’s about his age, with messy, bleached blonde hair and these incredibly blue eyes that seem to twinkle with laughter.  He’s wearing a really stupid uniform—white polo shirt and baseball cap both emblazoned with the “Paul’s Pizza” logo—but somehow he still looks good, exuding a kind of carefree attractiveness that Zayn can’t help but be drawn to.  The boy raises an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smile, and Zayn realizes that he must’ve said something.

“Sorry, what?”

“I said it’s twenty quid,” the boy repeats, laughing.  He’s laughing at Zayn, but it’s good-natured, so Zayn only blushes a little bit.

“Right, sorry.” He hands the boy the money and accepts the three pizza boxes, tucking his highlighter behind his ear and placing his script on top so he can carry everything. The boy catches sight of the title.

“You’re reading Shakespeare?” he asks, handing Zayn his change. “What, are you in summer school or something?”

“No, um,” Zayn says, “I’m in a production of it.”

The boy looks intrigued.

“Yeah? Are you the star?”

Zayn shakes his head. “The star’s a girl.”

“Can I see?” Zayn nods, and the boy picks up his script, flipping through it. “So it’s like _Hamlet_ , basically?”

“Well, it’s Shakespeare, but…”

“But otherwise nothing like _Hamlet_ ,” the boy finishes for him.  “I read that in school.  I couldn’t understand a word of it.”  He smiles. Zayn starts to say something, but—

“Zayn!” Louis yells from the other room.  “Hurry up!  What are you doing, flirting with the pizza boy?!”

Zayn curses, blushing for real, and snatches his script back.

“Shit, sorry, I should—”

The boy laughs. “’S fine,” he says. “Maybe I’ll come see you in your play that’s not like _Hamlet_ , yeah?”

“Yeah, okay,” Zayn says.  Then, “I’m Zayn, by the way.”

The boy grins at him, a real, million-watt grin, and responds,

“Niall.”

* * *

 

A week later, Zayn’s mum calls him as he’s getting out of rehearsal and asks him to pick something up for dinner, so he swings by Paul’s on the drive home. The pizza place is pretty empty, since it’s still fairly early in the evening.  Niall’s standing behind the counter, talking to a tall, gangly boy with green eyes and a mop of brown curls, who’s back in the kitchen kneading some pizza dough.  Niall turns when he hears the little bell on the door as Zayn enters, and he grins.

“Hey, you’re the Shakespeare bloke! Zayn, right?”

Zayn nods. “Yeah. Niall?”

“Yeah,” Niall laughs. “Where’s your shouty friend?  Not here?”

Zayn comes up to the counter, his cheeks growing hot.

“No, he’s, uh, he’s not here today.  Sorry about him.”

Niall shrugs. “It’s fine.  My friends aren’t that polite, either.” The curly-haired boy frowns.

“Heeeey!”  He flicks some flour at Niall, but misses, instead just scattering it across the table where he’s working.  Niall laughs at him.

“This is Harry,” he says by way of introduction.  “Harry, this is Zayn, the guy I was telling you about.

“Hi, Zayn,” Harry says politely, waving a flour-covered hand at him.  Zayn waves back.

“Hullo.” He turns to Niall. “I, ah, I had three pizzas to go?”

Niall nods.  “Right, they’re in the oven.  How long, Haz?”

“’Bout seven more minutes,” Harry says, checking the timer beside him.  He goes back to kneading the dough and says, almost casually,

“So, Zayn, Niall here was quite smitten with you after you met the other day.  He came back, said he’d met a boy with—what was it you said, Nialler?  Cheekbones like a god?  Waxing poetic, he was— _ow!_ ”

Niall has reached over and smacked his shoulder.

“Harry Styles, if you don’t watch it—”

He’s blushing, the faintest of pinks tingeing his cheeks.  It’s really adorable, Zayn thinks, his heart speeding up.

The thing is, Zayn’s not that used to flirting with boys yet.  He’s not like Lou, who’s been pretty open about being bi since they were about sixteen.  Zayn didn’t even come out to Liam and Louis until this past year.  Sure, he flirts with his castmates and stuff, but they’re _theatre_ kids—flirting is how they naturally interact with each other, regardless of gender or sexual preference.  It’s quite a different matter for Zayn to do that with someone in the real world, someone who might not even be into boys.  Especially after Gabriel Blake.

So Harry’s comment, and Niall’s response, and the idea that Niall finds him as attractive as he finds Niall—well, it’s nice, to say the least.

Harry throws some more flour at Niall, this time leaving a dusting of white across his cheeks.  It’s a nice contrast to the pink of the blush that Niall hasn’t quite managed to quell.  Zayn sits on one of the stools by the counter, resting his elbows on the linoleum.

“You’ve got a little something there,” he says, swiping a hand at his own cheek to indicate.  This causes Niall to blush more and curse, brushing the flour off with his wrist.  He looks like he’s considering retaliation against Harry, but just then the phone rings, and Harry escapes to go answer it.

“Hello, Paul’s Pizza, how may I help you?”

He flashes Niall a taunting grin and Niall flips him off before turning to face Zayn and ignore Harry entirely.

“So, Zayn,” he says, running a hand through his hair, “how is that Shakespeare going?  Have you stolen the show?”

Zayn chuckles.  “Not exactly.  Right now I’m just worried about learning my lines.”

“Yeah?  I could help with that.”

Niall holds one hand up in front of him, posing, and assumes an air of mock-seriousness as he says gravely,

“To be… or not to be… that is the question…”

He furrows his brow, frowning intensely, and holds the pose until Zayn begins to giggle.

“Not bad,” he says, “but that’s the wrong play, for one thing, and for another, I don’t think I’ve ever heard of an Irish Hamlet.”

“No?”  Niall shrugs.  “I can be the first, then.”

“Sure,” Zayn says.

“I just moved here from Ireland,” Niall says, by way of explanation.  “My stepdad got transferred, so we all moved a couple weeks ago.  This arsehole’s a family friend.”  He gestures towards Harry, who’s hung up the phone.

“This arsehole got you a job,” Harry returns.  Niall sticks his tongue out but otherwise ignores Harry in favor of Zayn.

“What about you?  You from around here?”

Zayn nods.  “Yeah, I live a couple blocks that way.”  He gestures in the vague direction of his house.  He briefly thinks of asking Niall to come over sometime, but he’s really not sure how that would come off, and besides, he still remembers what happened the _last_ time he asked over a boy he fancied.

The timer goes off.

“Oh, Zayn, your pizzas are ready,” Harry says.  “Give me a hand, Nialler.”

Niall holds open the boxes as Harry takes out one, two, three large pizzas.  He rings Zayn up and Zayn pays, what little courage he may have had now gone with the moment.  Niall grins at him as he leaves.

“Come by if you want to run lines, then.”

Zayn smiles back, trying to ignore the flutter in his stomach.  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

* * *

 

That Saturday, when he and Louis are over Liam’s house, Zayn casually suggests they order pizza.

“Why?”  Louis asks.  “You want to try and pick up that delivery boy?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Zayn says, carefully not meeting Louis’ eye.

“Don’t you lie to me, Zayn Malik.  You have that smile you always get when you fancy someone.”

“I just want pizza,” Zayn protests.

“You sure it’s not about those, what did you call them? ‘Eyes you could drown in’?  Have you finished your sonnet on his smile yet?  Are you two going to be married here, or in Mullingar?  Can I be the flower girl?”

“I wouldn’t mind some pizza,” Liam interjects.  Zayn smiles at him gratefully.  Sometimes Zayn thinks Louis’ hysterical, and sometimes he’s just annoying; Liam tends to be pretty good at telling which mood Zayn’s in, and coming quietly between them when he needs to.  Louis huffs and lets the subject drop for the time being.

“Fine, pizza it is, then.”

He doesn’t get a chance to bring it up again, though, because when Zayn goes to answer the door an hour later, it’s not Niall, but another delivery boy in a white polo shirt and “Paul’s Pizza” cap.  Zayn sighs inwardly and tries to hide his disappointment.  He doesn’t do a very good job of it, but it doesn’t matter, because Liam’s broken down under Louis’ interrogation and admitted that there’s a girl he likes, and that’s _much_ more interesting than Zayn’s semi-crushes on random delivery boys.  Her name is Danielle and she works the same shift as Liam does at the library and she’s tall and gorgeous and has curly dark hair and brown eyes and Liam is _mad_ for her.  So Zayn’s able to just nod along and smile, and the subject of Niall is dropped.

* * *

 

Zayn tells himself, as he pulls into the car park at Paul’s on Monday afternoon, that he’s really only here because he wants a sandwich, and whether Niall is there or not makes no difference whatsoever.  He can just sit at a table and look over his lines from the scene they’ve just blocked and he’ll be perfectly fine.

Even so, when he walks in to find Niall grinning at him from behind the counter, he can’t help but feel a rush of happiness and grin back.

“Hey there, Shakespeare,” Niall says.

“Hey yourself, Irish,” Zayn says.

“You taking me up on my offer, then?”

Zayn smiles.  “Sure.  If you think you can handle it.”

“Please.  I could eat Shakespeare for breakfast.”

Zayn hands over his script.  He orders a meatball sub from Harry, who’s working in the kitchen, as Niall skims over the lines, his eyes widening.  He looks up, bewildered.

“Jesus, how do you understand any of this?”

Zayn laughs.  “You get used to it.  It’s got a kind of rhythm to it, really.”

Niall looks doubtful.  “If you say so.”  But he reads through the lines anyway, switching back and forth between characters, prompting Zayn when he freezes and correcting the words that he misses.  Niall has to keep going to help other customers, but they still manage to run through Zayn’s first two scenes a couple times before Zayn’s sub comes.  Then they just chat, in between customers, Niall leaning up against the counter and smiling at Zayn so his heart speeds up.  Niall talks about Mullingar, the little town in Ireland where he grew up, and his life before moving here; Zayn talks about Louis and Liam, and about his family, his parents and three sisters—an idea completely alien to Niall, who’s just got one older brother.  Niall’s got flour on his face again, just next to his nose, and Zayn wants to reach across the counter and brush it off, but he resists.

Zayn finishes his sandwich and gets up to leave.

“So you work Mondays?” he blurts before he can stop himself.  His face goes hot—he couldn’t be more obvious if he _tried_.  But Niall only grins.

“Yeah, and Wednesdays and Fridays.  If you come by I can help you again, yeah?”

Zayn nods eagerly.  “Yeah.

“Well, Wednesday, then.”

“Okay,” Zayn says happily.  “Wednesday.”

He can practically hear Louis teasing him.

* * *

 

Wednesday turns into Friday, which turns into Monday, which turns into Wednesday again, until Zayn stops thinking about it, and, every other weekday, just finds himself driving to Paul’s Pizza on his way home from rehearsal. He learns his lines faster for _Twelfth Night_ than he has for any other show.  The whole play becomes infused with Niall: Act I calls up the blue of Niall’s eyes, and the way they go all crinkly when he laughs; Act II makes Zayn think of the habit Niall has of fidgeting with his cap, taking it off and running a hand through his hair so Zayn can see the brown of his roots; Act III is the one evening when business is so slow that he and Niall wind up having a food fight with Harry, chucking globs of uncooked pizza dough at each other from behind the counters; Act IV becomes Niall’s voice as he sings along to the radio they have going some afternoons, belting out the entirety of “Bohemian Rhapsody” without missing a note; and Act V is the Friday when Zayn screws up his courage and asks Niall and Harry to come along with him, Louis and Liam tomorrow night to see the _Jurassic Park_ marathon that they’re showing at the park.

“They’re setting up a projector and everything, like an old drive-in,” Zayn says, fidgeting with his script and hoping Niall won’t think the idea is dumb.

“Yeah, that sounds like fun!  Should we meet there?”  Niall turns to look at Harry.  “You can drive us, right?”

Harry nods.  “What time?”

“It starts at five.”

“Okay, we’ll see you at five, then,” Niall says, grinning.  Zayn smiles back, already giddy.

* * *

 

 “Guess who Liam’s bringing?” Louis asks when Zayn pulls up in front of his house the next evening.  He doesn’t wait for Zayn to guess, though, sliding into the front seat and saying, “Danielle from the library.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Louis says as they pull away from the curb.  “He finally manned up and asked her out.  He’s picking her up from her house.”

“Ah,” Zayn says, and then, “I, um, I invited a couple people, too.”

“What?!” Louis asks, grinning.  “Who?”

“That bloke Niall from the pizza place and his friend,” Zayn says, glad he has the excuse of having to watch the road so he doesn’t have to look over and see the glee on Louis’ face.

“The one you stop by to see once a week who ‘runs lines’ with you?”

“Three times a week,” Zayn admits, stopping at a red light but still refusing to turn his head and meet Louis’ gaze.

“ _Zayn!_ ”  Louis smacks him on the shoulder.  “Why didn’t you tell me?  Jeez, do I have to get a boyfriend now, too?”

“He’s not my _boyfriend_ ,” Zayn says, pulling forward when the light turns green.  “He’s not my anything.  We’re just friends.”

“Uh-huh,” Louis says.  “Don’t lie to me.  You _clearly_ fancy him.”

“ _Maybe_ ,” Zayn says, “but he’s not my boyfriend.  His friend’s coming, too.”

“Hmm,” Louis says, folding his arms.  “Well, it’ll still be good for me to meet this guy.  Make sure he’s okay.”

“Lou, you’re not my chaperone.”

Louis only laughs.

* * *

 

They’re the first there, so they pick a good spot and sit to wait.  Liam comes next, accompanied by the fabled Danielle, who’s very nice, and just as pretty as Liam said.  Liam looks over the moon.

Harry and Niall arrive soon after.  Zayn makes introductions and tries to avoid Louis’ gaze.  He doesn’t have to worry for long, because Harry and Niall have brought pizza, and that sufficiently distracts Louis from his teasing duties.  Zayn manages to maneuver so he’s sat next to Niall on the hood of his car, with Louis going over to sit beside Harry.  He and Niall split a pizza topped with roasted peppers (“That’s your favorite, right?” Niall asks, and Zayn can’t help but be pleased that he remembers), although Niall also manages to eat several slices of everyone else’s pizzas, too.  The movie starts right on time, and Zayn and Niall lean back on the windshield to watch.

“You know,” says Niall, partway through, “I always end up rooting for the dinosaurs.”

“Me too,” Zayn whispers back.

“There’s just something about watching T-Rexes eating people,” Niall says.  Zayn laughs.

“Exactly.”

There’s a fifteen minute break in between movies, and Niall offers to go get popcorn from the stand they have set up on the other side.

“Somebody go with him, or he’ll eat it all before he gets back,” Harry says.  He and Louis are leaned back against the car, and at some point during the movie Louis’ arm has found its way around Harry’s shoulders, and now they’re sitting like that, even though Harry’s probably about a foot taller than Louis is.  Zayn shoots Louis a quizzical look, but Lou only shrugs and smiles, very pleased with himself.  Well, that just means that Louis isn’t allowed to tease Zayn when he hops off the hood of the car after Niall, saying,

“I’ll go, and protect our food.”

Niall laughs and leads the way, weaving between cars and picnic blankets and lawn chairs.  Zayn tries not to stare, but he really can’t help it.  Niall’s traded his white polo shirt for a green tank top, and his “Paul’s Pizza” cap has been replaced by a snapback with the logo of an American baseball team.  Zayn’s eyes follow the dips and hollows of his shoulders, the muscles of his arms and back; he wants so badly to put an arm around Niall’s waist and pull him in close, to kiss his neck and shoulders and then his lips.  Niall turns back, catches Zayn looking at him, and flashes him a grin.  Zayn grins back even as he blushes, embarrassed.

“We’d better hurry,” Niall says as they reach the popcorn stand and get it line.  “Don’t want to miss any people being eaten.”

“Definitely not,” Zayn replies, reaching out and tweaking the brim of Niall’s cap.  Niall smiles, and Zayn could swear he blushes a bit as he straightens it, sweeping a hand across his bangs.  He looks at Zayn for a moment, then takes the cap off and puts it on Zayn’s head.  Zayn laughs, trying to pretend his heart hasn’t sped up to twice its usual speed.

“Do I get to be you now?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Niall laughs.  “And I’m you.”  They’ve reached the front of the line, so he turns to the guy beside the cart and says, “Three large popcorns, please,” in the worst impression of an English accent Zayn’s ever heard.

“Well,” he says, “if you’re trying to blend in with the locals, you’re doing a pretty shit job of it.”

Niall shrugs.  “Can’t be good at everything.”

The second movie’s already starting by the time they wind their way back to the others, so they have to be quiet as they hand out the food and then settle back onto the hood of the car, sitting closer this time so they can split the popcorn.  Zayn can’t help but feel a little giddy every time their hands brush reaching for popcorn, even though it makes him feel like some twelve-year-old on his first ever date.

About halfway through the movie, Zayn begins warring with himself.  Right this second, there’s nothing he wants more than to put his arm around Niall’s shoulders, but just the thought of it terrifies him.  What if Niall doesn’t like him that way?  (He really _does_ sound like a twelve-year-old.)  For all he knows, Niall’s straight, and would flip out at any hint that Zayn’s otherwise.

But then again, Niall _has_ been openly flirting with him for several weeks now—there really is no other way to put it.  Plus, Louis has had his arm around Harry for nearly a movie and a half now (Zayn glances beside them to confirm this, and sure enough, there they are, leaned up against the windshield, with Louis’ arm around Harry and Harry’s head rested on Louis’ shoulder), and if Louis can do that after knowing Harry for all of a couple hours, then damn it, Zayn can do it, too.

Zayn scoots closer and slowly puts his arm around Niall’s shoulders.  He considers faking a yawn, but decides that the whole thing is already juvenile enough as it is and refrains.  He keeps his eyes fixed on the screen, but he can feel Niall turn to glance at him, then look back towards the movie and settle in, leaning his head back on Zayn’s arm.  Zayn tries and fails to keep a grin from his face, but luckily it’s dark enough that he doesn’t think Niall can see it.

After the second movie ends, Niall gets up to go find the bathroom, and Louis and Zayn exchange a glance and a thumbs-up.  Zayn looks to his other side, where Liam and Danielle are trying their hardest not to look like they’ve been snogging.  Zayn raises an eyebrow at Liam, who shrugs, smiling sheepishly.

Niall comes back just as the last movie is about to start, and he slips under Zayn’s arm again without hesitation.  He holds up something in a wrapper, but it’s too dark for Zayn to see what it is.

“They were giving out ice cream sandwiches,” Niall explains, tearing the wrapper away.  “I got the last one.  Wanna split it?”

“You’re not going to eat the whole thing yourself?”  Zayn teases as the projector whirs back into action.  “Are you finally full, then?”

“Please, I could eat ten of these and still not be full,” Niall says, breaking the sandwich in half.  “Just thought I’d share.”

The half-sandwich lasts all of about ten seconds, and then Zayn sits, licking the chocolate off his fingertips, and tries to make his heart rate slow down to something resembling a normal speed.  He’s half convinced Niall can hear it, but all Niall does is tuck his legs underneath himself so that he can lean back against Zayn’s chest.  Zayn fiddles with Niall’s snapback, which he’s still wearing, pushed back on his head.  Niall is incredibly close to him, his hair tickling Zayn’s face, his knees resting against Zayn’s leg.  Zayn shifts his arm down so it’s around Niall’s waist, and Niall responds by reaching his hand over to intertwine their fingers.  Zayn gives up and just lets his heart race.

He doesn’t catch much of what goes on in the movie, because all he can think about is how warm Niall is against him, and how badly he wants to kiss him.  He’s wanted to kiss him before, spent hours trying not to stare at Niall’s mouth, but he’s never felt such a strong, thrumming _need_.  But he doesn’t do it, because in spite of all the cuddling, hand-holding, and food-sharing, Zayn can’t push past the certainty in the back of his mind that if he kisses Niall, it will ruin everything.

* * *

 

When the last movie finishes, Harry says that he’s going to drive Louis home, and Zayn, choosing to heed the warning look Louis shoots him, doesn’t argue, just nods and says he’ll take Niall.

Niall fills the drive back to his house with endless chatter, about the movies and the radio stations he flips through and whatever the fuck is going on with Louis and Harry (his words, not Zayn’s), interspersed with frantic directions as he realizes they should’ve turned on that last road.  Zayn, already half-asleep, wonders vaguely if Niall _ever_ gets tired. He doesn’t really mind, though.  That’s part of what he likes about Niall: his boundless energy, the way he’s always _on_ , always happy.

They do eventually get to Niall’s house, and Zayn pulls into the driveway, turns the car off.  It’s suddenly very quiet, the radio shutting off with the car, and rather dark, with no light but the distant glow of a streetlight.  Niall turns to him.

“I’m really glad we did this,” he says softly.

“Me too,” Zayn says, turning to face Niall.

“I really like you, Zayn,” Niall says, his blue eyes earnest, even in the dark.

“I—I really like you, too,” Zayn says, faltering.

Niall leans across and kisses him.

Zayn freezes, stiffening under Niall’s touch.  Niall pulls back, confused.

“Sorry, I…”

Zayn tries to make himself say something, _anything_ , but between one half of him wanting to jump for joy and the other half flashing back to the _last_ time he kissed a boy and knowing that it’s all over now, this has ruined _everything_ , he’s not able to get anything out other than,

“Oh…”

For the first time since Zayn’s known him, Niall looks hurt, his face falling.

“Sorry, I’ll go.”

He opens the door and steps out.  Zayn is still reeling, and he wants to call out to Niall as he closes the car door and walks up his front steps, wants to tell him to stop, come back, don’t be sorry.  He wants to but all he does is sit in useless silence while Niall unlocks his front door and, with one last, wounded look back at Zayn, goes inside.

It’s not until Zayn pulls into his own driveway that he realizes he’s still wearing Niall’s snapback.

* * *

 

Zayn is seventeen.  It’s a Saturday afternoon, and Zayn has screwed up his courage and invited _Gabriel Blake_ over to play FIFA.

Gabe sits next to Zayn in English, and Zayn’s fancied him for almost a year now.  Secretly, of course; nobody in school knows he’s gay, not even Liam and Louis.  It’s taken Zayn awhile to even admit it to himself.  He hadn’t really even thought about it until Lou came out a year ago, and then Zayn realized that, other than his first kiss when he was nine, he’d never really been interested in girls at all.  When he looked around, he found that he was far more attracted to the boys in his classes than any of the girls.  Then he met Gabe on the first day of classes this year, and started crushing on him so hard that there’s really no use in denying it anymore.

And now he’s sat next to him on his couch playing videogames.  Zayn can’t believe his luck.

“Dammit, Zayn!” Gabe says, as Zayn wins again.

“Here, we can play one on the same team,” Zayn offers, and Gabriel agrees.  They work much better together, Zayn is pleased to notice.  He steals glances at Gabe, hoping he’ll glance back.  At one point he does, right after scoring a goal, and he flashes Zayn a smile that turns Zayn’s insides into a fluttery mess.  Zayn returns the smile somewhat giddily.

That smile bolsters his courage, and Zayn plays harder than ever.  In the last five seconds of the game, Gabe passes the ball to Zayn, and Zayn scores just as the clock runs out, winning the game.  He and Gabe jump up and down, laughing and shouting, and when Gabe goes in for a high-five, Zayn kisses him.

Gabe gasps and Zayn pulls away quickly.  Gabe stares at him, open-mouthed.

“What was that?!”

Zayn falters.

“Sorry, I just— I, um—”

“Wait, are you _gay?_ ”

Gabe looks shocked and just a tiny bit disgusted.  Zayn wants to deny it, but he can’t say the “No” that he knows would be a lie.  Gabriel hurriedly puts on his jacket and picks up his car keys, saying,

“Look, I think I should just go, okay?”

“Wait—”

Gabe turns back.  All Zayn really wants to do is cry, but he holds his tears back long enough to say,

“Don’t—don’t tell anybody.”

Gabriel looks at him for a moment, then turns and walks out.  Zayn can hear the sound of his car as he pulls away, tires squealing on the pavement.  He sits down on the couch and lets his tears fall.

* * *

 

For a whole week after Niall kisses him, Zayn stays away from Paul’s Pizza.  He knows he screwed up, and he knows everything is ruined.  Niall will probably never want to speak to him again.  He fends off all attempts from Liam and Louis to make plans, insisting that he’s got to focus on rehearsals.  But he can’t focus on rehearsals, he can’t focus on anything except how badly he’s fucked up.

Finally, on Sunday evening, after Zayn spends the whole weekend holed up in his house, Louis comes barreling into his room, as he is often wont to do.

“Okay, what’s wrong?” he asks, hands on his hips.  Zayn shrugs, looks back to the book he’s reading.

“Nothing.  I’ve just been busy.”

Louis rolls his eyes and snatches the book away.  “ _Please_.  I’ve talked to Harry; he says you’ve been M.I.A. from him and Niall all week, too.”  He sits down on the end of the bed, pushing at Zayn’s legs until he moves them out of the way.  “And Niall won’t say a word about it.”

Zayn grabs his book back and flips through to find his page again.

“I fucked up, is what happened,” he says.  He finds the page and puts a bookmark in, refusing to meet his friend’s eye.  Louis softens.

“It can’t’ve been that bad.  What did you do?”

Zayn sighs, scrubs a hand over his face.  “We were in the car, and he said he was glad we did this and he really likes me, and then he kissed me.”  Zayn’s replayed the whole thing in his mind so many times, he doesn’t even have to try very hard to bring every single detail flooding back.  “And I didn’t kiss back, and then he just kind of apologized, and he got out of the car and went in, and I didn’t even try to stop him.”

Zayn finally looks up to meet Louis’ gaze.  Louis nods, his face serious.

“Why didn’t you kiss back?  I thought you liked him.”

“I dunno, I just—I just didn’t want to ruin things.”  Zayn feels like he’s going to cry again, but he bites the inside of his cheek and holds it back.

“Why would you be afraid of ruining things?” Louis asks.  “Niall likes you.”

“Yeah, but…” Zayn starts to cry.  Louis moves up to sit beside him and puts an arm around him, pulling him into a hug.  Slowly, in between sobs, Zayn tells him the story of what happened a year ago with Gabriel Blake.  Louis strokes his back and listens intently.

“Oh, God, Zayn,” he says finally.  “Why didn’t you tell us?  Was he mean to you after that?  Do you need me to kick his arse for you?”

Zayn smiles a little, both because Louis is joking to try and cheer him up and also because he really isn’t joking—if Zayn says Gabe was mean to him, Louis probably _would_ beat him up, and Liam would help.

“I hadn’t even come out to you guys yet,” he replies.  “I was too scared to.  I was too scared to say it to anyone.  I still don’t even know how I got the guts to kiss him.”

“He didn’t do anything else to you, did he?”  Louis’ voice still has that protective edge to it, and Zayn shakes his head.

“No, he just ignored me after that.  I haven’t talked to him since.”

Louis sighs.  “I guess that’s all right.  He’s still a dick, though.”

“Yeah…”  Zayn wipes his eyes on the back of his hand.  The last time Louis held him like this was after he came out to him and Liam, terrified beyond belief that the faint look of disgust that had been on Gabriel’s face would be on their faces, too.  But all they did was pull him into a hug between the two of them and reassure him that they loved him no matter what.

“Zayn,” Louis says softly, “I know that that must have been really shitty, and I’m sorry it happened, and I really will go beat him up for you if you like.”

“That’s all right,” Zayn says, smiling.

“But not every guy is like him,” Louis continues, resting his head against Zayn’s.  “Niall’s not Gabriel Blake.  Niall really likes you.”

Zayn sighs.  “I just don’t know how to fix it.”

Louis catches sight of Niall’s snapback, which is sitting on Zayn’s desk.  He picks it up and puts it in Zayn’s hands.  Zayn feels again the rush of butterflies he got when Niall gave it to him.  He puts it on and thinks maybe things will be okay.

* * *

 

After rehearsal the next day, Zayn goes straightaway to Paul’s Pizza.  He sits outside in the car park, out of sight of the windows, and tries again to slow his heart rate down to normal.  But then again, when it comes to Niall, this _is_ normal.  He gives up and gets out of the car, walking inside.

Niall looks up and sees Zayn, and his face falls into the same hurt expression he wore when he left Zayn’s car.

“Hi, Zayn,” he says softly as Zayn comes up to the counter.

“Hi,” Zayn says, then falters.  Niall looks at him expectantly.  “Niall, I—”

But this is the problem: whenever Zayn’s around Niall, he can’t think straight, can’t get words out.  All he’s aware of is how much he really wants to kiss Niall right now, but he knows he doesn’t deserve that yet.  He has to make amends.

“Niall, I’m sorry.  I was an arse last week and I’m sorry.”

Niall stares at him.  Zayn notices he’s got flour on his face again.

“You were an arse,” he says bluntly.  “But, Zayn, if you don’t want to kiss me it’s… it’s okay.  I’m sorry if I freaked you out.”

“No, it’s… it’s not that, it’s just…”  And here he is, lost for words again.  Zayn battles with himself for just half of a moment before he leans across the counter and kisses Niall.

Niall gasps a little bit, then slowly melts into it, letting Zayn pull him halfway over the counter, his hand coming up to hold Zayn’s.  When they pull away, he’s smiling.

“Well then.”

Zayn laughs a little.  “Yeah.  I’m sorry.”

“You’re kind of an idiot, you know that?”  Niall says softly, and all Zayn can do is smile back.

“Does that mean I’m forgiven?”

“I suppose,” Niall says, trying to feign annoyance but failing miserably.  Zayn feels his heart do somersaults and doesn’t even try to contain his grin.

“I’ve still got your snapback, by the way,” he says, and Niall shrugs.

“You can keep it.”

Zayn smiles, unable to tear his eyes away from Niall’s face.  Niall notices him staring and raises his eyebrows.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Zayn says, “you’re just really pretty.  Also,” he adds, “you’ve got a little something there.”  He reaches up and brushes the flour off Niall’s cheek.  Niall blushes right down to his neck and grabs Zayn’s hand, lacing their fingers together.

“You busy tonight?  I’m getting off early.”

* * *

 

Opening night is packed.  Zayn runs on adrenaline the whole show, and the standing ovation that he gets during curtain call makes him feel like his heart is going to burst right out of his chest.  But the best part is, when he changes out of his costume and comes out with the rest of the cast, Niall’s right there by the stage door waiting for him. Beside him are Harry and Louis, holding hands and grinning like idiots, and Liam with his arm around Danielle.  But Zayn’s only got eyes for Niall, who sheepishly hands him the bouquet of flowers he’s holding.

“Apparently I’m supposed to give you these,” he says.  “Good job.”

Zayn smiles.  “I’m so glad you came.”

That’s all they manage to say before Zayn’s family cuts in, parents and sisters and relatives who came to see him, and he has to be hugged and kissed and congratulated.  Then there’s Louis and Liam, who hug him and slap his back (and his arse, in Louis’ case), and Harry, who hugs him as well, and Danielle, who smiles and congratulates him.  Then, finally, there’s Niall again.  Zayn leans in and kisses him, in front of his friends and his castmates and his family, and it’s just _easy_.

“You were really good,” Niall murmurs.

“Well, I had some help learning my lines,” Zayn says, linking their fingers together.  “I think that’s what made the difference.”

Niall smiles and blushes.  Zayn holds his hand as they go out to the car.  Danielle has to go home, but Harry, Zayn, Niall and Louis all pile into Liam’s car to go out for ice cream. Zayn puts his arm around Niall and kisses him again.

“Oi!” Louis says from the front seat.  “That’s enough out of you two; we don’t all want to watch you snog.”

Zayn considers retorting, but decides not to.  He gets to kiss Niall whenever he wants to now, so if he has to wait a couple hours, well, he can manage that.

**Author's Note:**

> You can also find me on [tumblr](http://whyitgrins.tumblr.com). Thanks for reading!


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